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Betere leesbaarheid

Saturnine

door killea

Saturnine



She turned up in the morning
no sign of any pathos
though frothing with anger,
intense, with a fury unkown,
she would not stop for roses
on this tempestuous day,
no, she burned with knowledge,
the violence of deceit, for loss,
that which was taken from her,
that which was delivered in spades,
hot anger boiled in her veins,
tears of frustration could not cool
the wild fire of the betrayals,
sour lemons would not turn
into sweet lemonade,
every defeat, glaring at her,
with the spite of life's jokes
at her expense, a cost too high,
until she reached the threshhold
of the depths of her wrath, the madness,
she left with her incandescent rage...

 

feedback van andere lezers

  • ivo
    schitterend in verzet .. knap geschreven Killea



    killea: thank you Ivo
  • andremoortgat
    Sour and sweet
    things of life...
    Knap voor de rest
    killea: thank you Andre
  • CHRIS
    ik was daar
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